


Itty Bitty Pink Martini

by twerkinshield



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic, Established Sterek - Freeform, M/M, pack parents out on a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twerkinshield/pseuds/twerkinshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek go to a bar and their alcoholic preferences are as different as their personalities. In which Derek has a not-so-secret love of girly drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itty Bitty Pink Martini

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my flawless muses Sarah and Emily.  
> Contains established Sterek.  
> I own nothing except for the prompt for their drinks of choice.  
> Inspiration for Stiles’ drink and Derek’s drink (which is an actual drink, go look it up LOL)

After a busy week of pack shenanigans with werepuppies who don’t know how to act mature, Stiles decides to throw caution to the wind. He leaves the pack with some healthy homemade snacks and tells them to order pizza and that Jackson will pay for it and goddammit you’ll all go to bed on time because some of you fools have weekend lacrosse training. He gets a half-hearted cheer and some smirks thrown in his direction with Boyd in the corner snickering about something that sounds suspiciously like ‘pack mom’ and ‘parent date night’. Whatever. Stiles already knows that he’s awesome.

He goes upstairs to drag Derek out of the workout room and throws a shirt at Derek’s head. And if it just so happens to be one of the ones that shows off Derek’s fantastically sculpted biceps then Stiles has nothing against it.

Derek smirks at him and mutters in a half serious way about the possibility of their puppies needing a babysitter. Cackling at Derek’s dry humour, Stiles tells him to hurry his pretty ass up to get in the car. One of the many perks of having a werewolf boyfriend is their ability to go out for drinks and not need a designated driver for the return trip. Back when they celebrated their first anniversary Derek took Stiles out to his favourite bar’n’grill for a private dinner reserved in their regular booth. That was when Stiles first discovered that Derek’s love of all things sweet also extended to his tastes in alcohol.

They arrive at the bar to a moderately busy crowd, so Derek heads off to use his patented alpha glare to stake out their usual booth. Stiles determinedly makes his way through the crowd to the bar to place their orders.

"Hi! I'll have a scotch on the rocks and a kinky pink sangria please"

The bartender looks him up and down and says, “Sure thing honey, can I see some ID first?” and grins knowingly.

“Yeah, sure thing”, Stiles fishes his drivers licence out of his wallet and hands it over to him with a flourish and a cheeky smirk.

The bartender raises his eyebrow at Stiles and then proceeds to start mixing the drinks. “Well sweetcheeks your drinks will be over in a minute”

“OK sweet, I’ll just be by the window with Scowly McBroodypants over there”, the bartender nods and Stiles carefully picks his way over to Derek while weaving through the drunken hoards of people.

“Scowly McBroodypants? Seriously Stiles?” Derek asks while making his patented disgruntled scrunchy-face. “What’s it gonna be next, Mr. Bitchy-Bushy-Brows?” Derek gives Stiles a toothy grin around his mouthful of shitty bar peanuts.

“Ha-bloody-ha, sourwolf’s got jokes tonight. Do you want me start to call you prettywolf again babe?” Stiles grins and leans in closer to Derek’s face. “Or how about O' Scruffy and Scowly One?" he teases gently.

Derek’s face softens almost imperceptibly at the gentle tone in Stiles’ voice and the lines in his face smooth out, making him look much younger than his twenty-seven years. He leans closer to Stiles to rub the tips of their noses together and rumbles happily when Stiles closes his eyes and nuzzles back. Their little display of affection is cut short when one of the waitresses appears with the tray bearing their drinks.

“Ok gents, here is _your_ scotch on the rocks,” the ice clinks softly against the glass as she sets the drink down in front of Derek, “And here is _your_ kinky pink sangria”, she places this drink down in front of Stiles, careful not to tip the little red lollipop out of the glass. “That’ll be ten dollars please!”

Derek retrieves his wallet from the leather jacket hanging off the back of his chair and starts to thumb through the bills while Stiles casually switches the placement of the drinks.

“Dude why the hell do people always think _I’m_ the one who orders these disgustingly sweet drinks?!” Stiles gives his scotch a slow sip. “They’re like a diabetic coma hidden under a sea of rainbow colours in a fancypants glass”

“Stiles, they’re tasty. And why is it a bad thing to order this?”

“Because it’s a girly drink. You always go for the girly drinks”

Derek whips his head back to look at Stiles with an expression like Stiles just suggested that they kill a box of newborn kittens after their date. At Derek’s affronted look the waitress shakes with barely contained laughter and starts to turn purple from the effort of trying not to laugh. She manages to put some cocktail napkins on the table and pocket the money before turning to walk away from the booth. Just as she’s walking away she hears “Yeah because you’re _such_ an adult with your little sippy cup of whiskey” hissed from the taller broody one.

To which the younger one promptly snarks back “It’s _scotch_ Derek. It’s in the same alcoholic family as whiskey but it’s totally not the same thing. The internet is never wrong.”

“Yeah because you’re such a scotch connoisseur _darling_ ”

“Just drink your girly drink _sweetheart_ ”

The waitress hazards a final glance back at the booth and sees both men glaring at each other, and then the smaller one snorts derisively at the taller one and snaps a quick picture on his phone. She manages to catch a glimpse of the phone screen showing the brooding and dark face of the older one looking incongruous behind the neon pink martini, while the smaller one cackles maniacally at the other’s resigned expression. At least bars are never boring. 


End file.
